


Heat

by SloanGreyMercyDeath



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SloanGreyMercyDeath/pseuds/SloanGreyMercyDeath
Summary: Sameen is the spark.





	Heat

When you touch, it feels like fire. All the places that skin meets skin burns and the trail her finger draws down your arm is exquisite torture. Her hand wraps around your wrist and you scream in pain. It is hot and tight and wonderful.

She is always above you when you start. You let her lead because to touch her, to roll her over, would set fire to your body and you are not ready to be set aflame. Her dark hair drags along your stomach as she brands you with her kisses. Mine. Mine. Mine, her mouth sears into your flesh.

The air is sucked out of you when she licks your inner thigh. Hot air rises, you think as she sinks her teeth into barely healed wounds and your tears are a cool relief. 

She gives, your rough lover does, and she takes away. You watch with hooded eyes, stinging in the smoke, as she drags herself back up your body.You wrap your arms around her, scorched flesh sticking together with slick, wet heat and you roll her over, 

She dislikes this. Fire is put out when the oxygen is removed and her under you feels suffocating. You can not breathe when she is so close, but when she is far, your throat closes.You sink your teeth into her neck, trying to lap up her blood like it’s an oasis in the desert and you have not drunk in years.

She whispers your name like a prayer. Her mouth the kindling of the fire between you. It always starts the blaze and you have no choice, but to end it. Your hands scrape their way up her thighs and you know that she is yours. 

When this is done, the fire will be gone. Replaced with cool wet safety and dark red blood. Mine. Mine. Mine, you say in time with your actions and her eyes never leave yours and you are roaring. 

To love her is to smolder, always crackling beneath the surface. You are finished, the last sizzle of your flame on her fingers and you watch her mouth put it out. You know that when you kiss her, you’ll taste the ashes of your actions, but you also taste the other thing. 

She tastes like arson, combustion, ignition. You are the last match in her worn, faded matchbook. Sameen is the last spark you will ever know.


End file.
